


Happenstance

by LiteraryHedonism



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Steter in space, WIP, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-14 21:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11216550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteraryHedonism/pseuds/LiteraryHedonism
Summary: Peter and Stiles know the risks they're taking when they jump through the Ghost Riders’ portal. They know they might die and it’s almost a certainty that they’ll be severely injured. It’s their only means of escape though so they’ll take it. The portal isn’t meant for them; they’ve already been removed from their universe, so it sends them to another.





	1. Wrong Door

Chapter One

-Wrong Door-

 

“You were in Eichen, Peter…” Stiles is giving him a look. He should know what that look means yet his brain latches onto the statement.

 

 

Eichen House.

 

Peter’s annoyed expression turns into a cold mask. He’s gotta give it to Stiles. The kid doesn’t flinched at his glare. “I was. I wonder who put me there?” Of course, it’s a rhetorical question since they’re both very aware of how and why Peter was left to rot in Eichen House.

 

The thought seems to trigger more of Peter’s true memories.

 

_The torture under his temporary cellmate, Valack, the scum guards, all the miserable time spent in that small, dingy cell. He’d kept patient through it all, knowing he’d have to remain alert in order to catch his chance when the time came._

 

_Well, he’d lost his mind from time to time, but who could blame him and he always came back to himself after his lapses._

 

 _Peter remembers the lights going out and the alarms ringing painfully in his ears. The door to his cell had swung open and he’d been able to simply walk out. The hallway was in total chaos, the smell of fear and blood already pungent in the air as the other prisoners attacked each other or wasted time paying the guards back for their_ hospitality _._

 

_He’d ignored them all, going right for the exit instead; swiftly removing anyone stupid enough to get in his way and moving on. He understood the other inmates’ motivations but revenge wouldn’t mean much if you weren’t out to enjoy the aftermath._

 

_His breath caught as his mind focused with perfect clarity to the moment right before he’d escaped his own level. Another prisoner had come bulldozing out of their cell, grappling onto Peter. The crazed inmate had gone right for Peter’s shoulder, growling and gnawing on it like a dog with a bone; or more accurately a wolf._

 

_Peter had responded by plunging a clawed hand under the attacker’s ribs then driving upwards to the heart. The heart in his claws made its last beat in short order. Air rushed into Peter’s lungs as he felt the Alpha power course through him once more._

 

_After all the scheming and plotting, after all the failures, Peter had gotten what he’d desired the most by pure happenstance._

 

_It’s strange really, Peter had had no idea that Eichen was housing an actual Alpha Werewolf. Though admittedly, given the now dead body pressing against Peter’s chest, the Alpha couldn’t have been in a very good condition. He dropped the body at his feet, the wet squelch going unheard amidst the chaos._

 

_It wasn’t his family’s Power but there was no way Peter was going to let anyone take this away from him._

 

_It had taken all of Peter’s considerable self-control to remain quiet, to keep from roaring in triumph and move towards freedom. He was able to reach the upper levels with little resistance; clearly someone else was keeping Eichen’s guards busy. It wasn’t hard to guess who._

 

_Once he’d made it out of the building Peter had ran right to the forest. He’d made his way into town after cleaning up as much as he could of the blood and gore in a stream. All the evidence and scents washed conveniently away._

 

_Peter had been in the middle of appropriating a vehicle when the Ghost Riders came for him. It happened too quickly; one minute he was dragging a Rider off of his horse, only to have another shoot Peter in the back._

 

_Afterwards, nothing had been more important than waiting for that stupid train. Until he’d seen Stiles, that is._

 

And now Stiles had snapped him out of one nightmare to lead him into another.

 

Peter struggled to keep himself calm as he rose from the bench and took in the decrepit dusty _train station_. Beacon Hills hadn’t had a functional train station in decades.

 

It would take some serious power to influence his mind to such an extent. It made Peter want to roar in anger that his mind had been played with again. He needed to keep at least some cards to himself though, so he tried to keep his mask of cool indifference. Of course with Stiles here to watch him his efforts were almost pointless.  

 

When Stiles let out a strangled sort of squawk, Peter knew the boy had caught the flash of red in his eyes.

 

“Oh my God! Seriously Peter!? It’s only been three months since we broke Lydia out of Eichen! How the hell are you an Alpha?” Stiles splutters and gesticulates with his hands wildly. If the situation weren't so dire he’d be lording this over the kid.

 

Instead he tuts, “Pure luck, I swear.” He raises an eyebrow at Stiles’ disbelieving snort. “Did you know there was an Alpha in Eichen? I certainly didn’t, as I wasn’t exactly allowed to stroll around.” Peter’s very aware of how bitter he sounds, and he’s rather satisfied to see Stiles wilt with guilt for a moment.

 

“Imagine my surprise when I’m attacked on my way out -thank you for the distraction by the way- and quite suddenly-” Peter’s eyes glow red. He shrugs his shoulders. Stiles can take it or leave it; there are other things for them to talk about. Like what the hell is going on for instance.

 

* * *

 

Surprisingly enough, Stiles doesn’t pester Peter about how he became an Alpha again. Instead they focus on how he and Stiles ended up in this place and by focus, Peter means they argue.

 

As always, Stiles is nauseatingly confident that there’s a way out. Despite Peter’s explanation that the Riders are an unstoppable supernatural force and that the whole purpose of this place is to keep them here. For what exactly? Peter’s not sure. Yet.

 

Seeing Stiles’ frantic and unflinching search for escape is catching though. As annoying as it is, Peter finds himself scanning their surroundings for clues.

 

Cooler heads do prevail it seems, since Peter quickly spots someone doing a rather poor job of spying on them. Seems whoever it is, has been stuck here for some time. A thin teenager with messy hair and dark circles under his eyes are focused on Stiles, who’s still trying to walk out the door, only to pop up on the other side of the room.

 

And of course Stiles just charges forward, confronting the other boy without hesitation. It gives Peter the opportunity to flank the spying youth; they’ve always worked so well together despite Stiles always being so contrary on the matter.

 

Peter can’t help but enjoy the cocky smirk Stiles gives them when the boy states they couldn’t possibly be capable of accomplishing this supposed escape plan.

 

The revelation of the second tunnel leaves Peter slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t seen it. At least he can take comfort in the fact that Stiles obviously feels the same way. They both make a good show of being unphased by it, of course.

 

He’s not afraid of going into the dark foreboding tunnel, not really. It’s just his brain keeps telling him he should be. But once Stiles pushes Peter through the threshold, it’s easy to see the deception. He also make it obvious that he’s taking pleasure in the fact that he has to pull Stiles into the new tunnel.

 

Of course, it's all for nothing. Peter makes it clear that he’s not really impressed about finding another dead end.

 

It's an easy enough dig that it finally gets the kid, whose name they still don't know, talking about the exit.

 

Once the plan is laid out, it’s Peter’s turn for optimism. It isn’t so much as he think’s it’s a good idea but he wants to see if it’ll work.

 

Now, if Stiles would quit being a bleeding heart and let the kid take the jump. Peter could actually start coming up with something.

 

It’s a shame when just as both he and Stiles thought it would actually work the boy is stopped by the barrier and burns before their eyes. It’s not a pretty sight; nor smell.

 

The Riders pass without any problems, though. What really puzzles Peter however is the fact that the Riders tried to throw the human off at all. If only the Riders could pass through the barrier, why fight so hard to keep them away from there?

 

Stiles turns to him, obviously upset and angry. Peter understands; that had been their one shot at escape apparently. The odds aren’t in their favor.

 

“You knew he was going to die.” Peter’s not sure why Stiles is voicing things they both know. He makes sure his look says as much.

 

The tone is off too, but there’s something about Stiles’ that’s changed and it’s been frustrating Peter to no end. There are the changes he would expect from not having seen the teen for some time. Stiles is slightly taller, his hair’s grown out again and all in all it’s obvious that the teen is on the cusps of adulthood. All things Peter expected.

 

Still, there’s something more than just the general distress this sort of situation warranted.

 

“Well, now we know.” An idea has been forming in his head for a while but he needs to go about this the right way or he’ll be forced to leave Stiles behind. It’s not that he isn’t willing to do just that but having Stiles on his side would likely increase their chances of success.

 

“Know what? That we’re stuck here until my friends remember me and come up with a way to save us?” The teen lets out a frustrated huff as he leans on a nearby pillar.

 

Peter almost snorts at how ridiculous that statement is. He can understand how Stiles would think that for himself, but does he really think that Peter would wait for that rag-tag band of teenage idiots to save him?

 

As if they would even consider saving Peter, anyway. Besides, the only one of them smart enough to figure this out is stuck here with him.

 

“Actually, I was going to suggest we jump out once the Riders have made their next delivery.” He suggests this casually, like he’s talking about going for a stroll. There’s no guarantee this will work of course, but it’ll help if Peter at least looks and sounds like he believes his own bullshit.

 

“Excuse me? We? Did you start forgetting again or did the dude disintegrating in mid-air not make an impression on you?” Stiles speaks to him with the usual scorn and sarcasm that makes Peter sort of glad for that little bit of normality. He’s also a little disappointed that the teen hasn’t figured it out yet.

 

“Yes, we. Don’t be ridiculous, he was just a human.” Peter tries again, wondering if it’ll be enough for his plan to become evident.

 

Stiles throws his hands up, another noise of frustration and the words that come after have the unmistakable tang of bitterness. Stiles reeks of negative emotions which is not a smell Peter finds enjoyable on the other. “And so am I, damn it! Remember poor fleshy, breakable, _human_ Stiles!” Stiles becomes almost violent in his agitation, harshly smacking his own chest while he yells at Peter.

 

Peter frowns; that had been a rather unexpected response. Something significant really had happened while he’d been out of the picture. “Now is it your memory that’s slipping, Stiles?” He steps into the teen’s space, eyes brightly glowing red in the dark tunnel.

 

There’s a long silence. He can see a myriad of expressions flitting through those big brown eyes before Stiles takes a single step back.

 

Peter can’t help wondering what Stiles will look like with glowing blue eyes.

 

“My.. my friends will remember me, they’ll come for me.” The teen stammers with false bravado. It’s a flimsy lie and Peter thinks he’ll have to be cruel to get Stiles to see the truth of things.

 

“How?” He growls, letting some of his own frustration slip out. “We might as well be dead! It’s what the Riders do, we’ve been forgotten, erased without a trace. The only way your precious friends are gonna figure this out, is if you’re there to help them!”

 

“Lydia.” Stiles offers desperately.

 

“Unless I’ve missed something extraordinary, her powers are still unreliable and she usually needed your guidance.” Peter tries to mollify his tone a little. He can see he won’t have much more to do to get Stiles on board. “You say I’ve been here for at least three months; no one -myself included- had a clue. How long do you think you’ve been here for Stiles? How many times do you think we’ve had this very conversation?”

 

Silence meets Peter’s questions. He steps back, to give Stiles a bit more space but not so far that he’s out of reach.

 

Peter won’t admit it but he is terrified that he could be right. That they’ve been stuck here in this holding pen with all the other catatonic humans for so long that Beacon Hills is gone. Who knows how long they’ve truly been here for? For all they know time could very well be meaningless here.

 

There’s also a very good chance that even if Peter’s plan works and they do not happen to die out right, by the time they’ll have healed there could be no one left. It was still better than waiting here only to fade into the ether or worse; they could be stuck in this place indefinitely.

 

“That gate is meant for supernatural creatures, Stiles, I won’t tell you it won’t hurt but we’ll heal.” Peter offers one more bit of encouragement.

 

“What if I reject the Bite?” Stiles counters, Peter isn’t surprised by the way the kid’s heart is rabbiting.

 

“First off, you won’t, I’ve always believed you would make a great wolf,” Peter ignores Stiles’ snort. “On the exceedingly low chance that you reject it… you and I both know what our chances are if we stay here. Who knows what this place will do to us if we just sit and wait.” Is Peter surprised by this little bit of honesty he’s offering? Yes. Does he regret it? Judging by the look Stiles gives him, Peter is going to say no.

 

“I let you bite me and you stick around to help us. This means _all of my friends_.” Peter beams despite the fact that Stiles is making terms, mostly because that means Stiles knows Peter’s won.

 

Peter’s got terms of his own of course but those can wait.

 

“Stop with the creeper face! I mean it, Peter, there’s gonna be rules and if this doesn’t work and I die, then you have to promise you’ll get out and save the others, save my dad.” The teen’s heartbeat is steady again, Stiles won't budge on this. Peter’s always secretly enjoyed that stubborn streak.

 

If Stiles is agreeing to take the Bite though, Peter will agree to those terms despite how stupid he thinks Stiles is being. He nods in agreement.

 

“No, say it Peter, promise me.” Stiles stands his ground yet he’s not coming across as challenging. _He’ll make a fine wolf_ , Peter thinks with small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

 

“I promise that if you take the Bite, I’ll help your friends whether you live or die.” Peter reaches for Stiles’ right hand so he can bring the wrist up once he gets the go ahead, _just like the last time_. “But Stiles, you won’t die.”

 

Stiles allows Peter to come closer, he doesn’t visibly flinch when Peter’s fangs drop but his heart beat picks back up momentarily. It’s a good show of how much Stiles has grown that it slows down to a calm steady rhythm with what seems to be little effort.

 

“Okay, we have a deal.” Stiles swallows thickly then practically shoves his wrist into Peter’s mouth. “Do it.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I don’t feel any different.” Stiles doesn’t even stop his pacing from one side of tunnel to the other.

 

Peter groans, this is the fourth time Stiles has said that since Peter bit him; which was roughly five minutes ago. “I’ve told you Stiles, the Bite is different for everyone. You’ve always struck me as a late bloomer.”

 

Stiles’ indignant squawk is a welcome distraction. Peter’s sure he should have been able to tell right away but there’s something about this place that seems to mute his senses. There’s one way he could make sure right now, but Stiles isn’t going to like it of course.

 

Peter takes a resigned breath. “Stiles come here.” The teen stops and looks at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting. “Please.” The word feels torn out of his throat - Stiles is his beta now, he shouldn’t have to say please. But it’s Stiles so he indulges him, for now. Teenagers…

 

“Wow, did that hurt as much as it sounded?” The teen smirks before walking casually towards Peter. Clearly they are testing their new boundaries already. Which is fine.

 

“Give me your hand.” Peter extends his own, “Please.” Thankfully instead of the witty retort he’s been expecting, Stiles complies but his mouth can never stay quiet for long.

 

“I don’t think biting me twice is gonna make it better Peter.” There’s a nervous chuckle. Humor and sarcasm, even poor attempts like these, had always been Stiles fallback.

 

Peter shakes his head with an indulging smile. “No Stiles, I’m going to break your finger.” Stiles tries to snatch his hand back which Peter had been expecting, so the Alpha easily holds the hand back. “This place is messing with my finer senses; so if the Bite took, you’ll heal. If it didn't take, you won’t.” Peter shrugs. They’ve already discussed that.

 

There’s a hesitant pause from Stiles, then the teen deflates with a glare but there’s no real heat to it. “I hate it so much when you make sense.”

 

Peter doesn't give Stiles time to think any more about it, quickly taking the other’s index finger and snapping it cleanly all the while keeping his gaze locks with Stiles’ eyes.

 

Right as the snap rings out in the silent tunnel Stiles yelps at the pain.

 

Peter sighs in relief a moment later as brown eyes glow blue. The beta’s pained noise turning into a growl. “You’re such an ass, Peter.”

 

They watch quietly as Stiles’ finger heals shortly after that rather accurate pronouncement. “Huh. So that worked.”

 

“Yes, Stiles. Eloquent as ever, of course.” Peter rolls his eyes, _of course it worked_.

 

“Stop gloating.” Stiles studies his hand, a frown of concentration creasing his forehead then Peter watches as the once human hands gain claws. “That’s so freaking weird, I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

 

“Keep practicing that. It would be better if you could have some form of control over your shift when the Riders come back.” Peter almost wishes they could have more time like this, almost. He’s got just about everything he wants now; he’s an Alpha, he has a pack, sure it’s just him and Stiles now, but there’s so much potential there. Unfortunately they’re stuck here with no means of making use of any of it.

 

Such a bleak and witless future isn’t something Peter can abide so if he needs to risk his and Stiles’ life to escape, then so be it.

 

Stiles fanged smile droops, human features taking place once more. No doubt his beta has just had similar thoughts. A resolute expression ages the teens face. “Right.”

 

Peter spends the next hour teaching Stiles as much about using his werewolf abilities as he can; thankfully the kid is a motivated learner on top of all his own experiences with the supernatural. More evidence that Peter had been right all along that Stiles would take to being a werewolf like he’d been born into it.

 

When the Ghost Riders return, a clap of thunder announces their imminent return. Peter is still seventy percent sure they’ll survive.

 

Peter quickly pulls Stiles behind a pillar just as the Riders come through the barrier. Once all the Riders have passed them and gone into the _station_ the sounds of screaming people and repeated gunfire echoes into the tunnel.

 

“Guess they didn’t appreciate the last escape attempt.” Stiles mumbles darkly.

 

Peter nods in agreement. It explains why the Riders are being excessively aggressive during this drop off. “Which is why you’ll have to hold on extra tight, Stiles.” Peter takes hold of Stiles’ shoulders to make sure his Beta is listening. “Do not let go, no matter what they do, dig your claws in if you have to.”

 

Stiles wrinkles his nose at the idea, but agrees.

 

“We’ll wait until most of the Riders have gone through, then jump on the last two. You go first.” Peter directs Stiles, who’s looking at Peter in confusion, to a pillar that's closer to the portal; the less time the Riders have to react, the better. At the last minute Peter pauses by one of the benches on the platform.

 

The gunshots have stopped and Peter can hear the horses coming their way. “Hurry up Stiles! You can do this!” He pushes the new werewolf away, who finally snaps out of it and does as Peter says.

 

Quickly, Peter pushes the bench onto the track before running to join Stiles. It should slow the Riders down some, maybe even cause some confusion.

 

When the first Rider stops in front of the bench, his mount whinnying in complaint at the obstacle, Peter and Stiles are as ready as they’ll ever be.

 

They share a grim look, this is their best chance to escape. Peter tries to smile, to look confident. It’s as much for Stiles’ benefit as his own, mostly because this is the sort of stunt that goes against all of Peter’s self-preservation instincts. But he can’t stay here another minute.

 

Stiles grabs Peter’s arm. The Riders are leaving.

 

This is it.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter remembers this kind of agony well, which means he knows it’s not as bad as the first time but a bit more severe than the second time he’d been made into a living torch. He’s badly burned from head to toe still, nerve endings so raw that he howled reflexively. An answering howl comes from somewhere near him, so full of pain it sounds more like a sob.

 

Stiles. He can feel the beta in his mind, his panic along with the pain. He tries to use their link to remind Stiles that he’s not alone, that they’ll heal. That’s the extent of what Peter can do for now, though.

 

They’ve done it, they’ve actually escaped and lived. The price had been steep but they would heal. Stiles sobs again - the beta’s new instincts no doubt - pushing out a weak howl calling to his Alpha for help.

 

Once Peter’s healed, he’ll be able to help Stiles’ recovery quicken, give him some solace from the pain. Give Stiles what Laura had denied Peter. That’ll take time however.

 

Peter wants to move, he tries to will his limbs to move despite the agony of his blistered and broken flesh. The feeling of dirt and wet leaves clinging to his seared flesh makes him want to vomit. Not to mention the other smells; it’s not just the smell of burnt skin or the smell of his and Stiles’ pain, no; it’s the smell of the world that’s simply wrong on a level Peter can’t comprehend right now.

 

Even if the healing process has already started, there’s a lot of damage and every second feels like a burning eternity.

 

Stiles manages to shift closer to Peter, growling and whining with effort and pain.

 

Not to be outdone, Peter continues his own efforts. He tries to remain quiet, as they’ve already risked giving away their positions enough as it is. He’s not really as silent as he’d like to but he does manage to crawl towards Stiles.

 

There’s a new smell in the air just as their hands reach for the others’. Peter stops moving, it’s almost like charged ozone accompanied by a strange high pitched sound that makes his ears ache. More smells reach his nose; it’s not anyone he’s familiar with. Some are human while others definitely aren’t.

 

They can’t take the risk of being captured, not again. Peter refuses to go back to that place. Or anywhere else that isn’t of his own choosing for that matter.

 

He can see lights flashing towards him, the sound of running steps. Stiles - despite being freshly Bitten and grievously wounded - hears the incoming sounds as well. He also manages to pick up from Peter that it’s probably not a rescue party coming for them.

 

Peter manages to raise himself off of the ground, but he can't maintain this posture for long, though he’s still trying to hold it as long as he can. He attempts to shift his form, but he’s too injured to manage anything except the simple shift of his face and claws though.

 

He roars with everything he’s got, hoping it’ll be enough of a warning to keep others away.

 

There’s a pause from the advancing group. Confused shouts along with words and languages that he doesn’t quite understand.

 

Communicating telepathically with his Beta isn’t easy yet, but Peter will use any advantage he can get. Using his link to Stiles, the Alpha shows his beta what’s happening.

 

Peter, for all his ego, knows his own limitations; and Stiles had always proven himself reliable under these sorts of circumstances.

 

A new voice coolly rings over the other voices, a tone that denotes a command; they’re only a few yards away now. Even if he can’t understand the words being said, Peter knows an argument when he hears one.

 

Peter takes this time to note his and Stiles’ conditions. At this rate he gives himself a week or two tops or until the next full moon before he’s at 100%. Stiles will take longer of course but with an Alpha to help him, Peter hopes it’ll only take a few weeks. He shares these thoughts with Stiles.

 

The sound of a single set of footfalls pulls Peter from his planning. He growls, a low warning rumble. Stiles tries to mimic the sound; it’s not as horrible as what he remembers of McCall’s first try. It’s not very intimidating either, though.

 

The steps stop nevertheless and the wind shifts giving Peter a nose full of information that throws him for a loop. Whoever is out there; they aren’t human or any supernatural that he can think of, but at least they know enough to heed Peter’s warning. Perhaps things aren't as dire as he’d thought.

 

Peter feels something touch his mind, trying to communicate. It’s not invasive, more like the waiting hand for a handshake. He can pick up some words that have meaning; _calm_ , _help_ , _doctor_ . There’s more, something he thinks could have been _Federation_ but it makes no sense to him.

 

He’s about to warn the creature away when Stiles grabs his arm. Peter’s genuinely surprised that the Beta can do that much, he’s even more surprised when he feels Stiles in his mind telling him to stand down, to wait and play along.

 

This is why he needs Stiles. He’ll be a great Second.

 

Peter lowers himself back to the ground, taking a crouching stance in front of Stiles. He tries to project his thoughts to the stranger, that he’ll accept their aid for now. For Stiles. But he won’t lower his guard yet.

 

He remains partially shifted, as people tended to be more cautious when they know they are dealing with an Alpha werewolf.

 

The moon shines through a break in the clouds, a waning gibbous moon; _so they’ve just missed the full moon_ , Peter thinks offhandedly.

 

The lone stranger calls to the others who’ve smartly remained further back and is the first to break through the line of trees that guard the clearing in which Peter and Stiles have landed.

 

A tall female in some kind of uniform he doesn't recognize pauses just a few feet from them. She wears the white generic doctor’s overcoat over the uniform. While she appears humans, there’s something about her features as she slowly gets closer that throws Peter off.

 

Her expression is strangely calm, seemingly unbothered by the sight Peter and Stiles make. He does notice a slight wrinkle in her nose, the smell affecting her for a moment before she covers it flawlessly.

 

She steps closer, pulling some kind of device from her pocket.

 

He’s getting tired; he knows that it’s normal that adrenaline can only carry you so far and that even Alphas have their limits. He should rest but he can’t until he knows more. Still the need to sleep persists and it dawns on Peter that it’s the woman doing it.

 

He growls, trying to stand. The rest of the party - all wearing variations of the woman’s uniform- filter into the clearing giving Peter a moment of doubt. Despite the fact that many look human there are a few that Peter is completely flummoxed by.

 

The women touches his shoulder without flinching, her expression still expertly neutral. Peter, for the first time in a very long time feels safe. His eyes flutter close and his features becoming human the moment he falls into a deep sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2 - Stardate 29089.38

 

- Stardate 29089.38-

 

His pain wakes him suddenly. He struggles to breath through it, trying to get his bearings when an unknown voice speaks. His memory is a little foggy, his last thoughts are of being in a moonlit forest while unknown supernaturals and humans offered aid.

“Can you understand me?” Peter nods without thinking.

The Alpha blinks a few times to focus his sight. What he sees worries him deeply. The forest is gone, Peter is on a bed, perhaps a gurney with his body covered by a strange iridescent sheet. Surprisingly enough the fabric doesn’t irritate his damaged skin. There’s a constant sound of fluttering, like hummingbird wings yet stronger, assailing the werewolf’s ears.  

The large white room has all the other hallmarks of a hospital, even the smell has the same antiseptic tang. Fortunately the ever present stench of death and sickness aren’t there. Other details are off as well, for the most part the technology present is like nothing he’s ever seen. Except in science fiction.

He tries spotting the exit. Peter hates that he doesn’t remember how he got here. There’s a set of what could be sliding doors about thirty feet to his right.

“My name is T’lin, I’m a doctor. On stardate 29068.31, you were found after local sensors detected a spacial anomaly. Your injuries were severe, it was necessary to sedate you for transportation. Afterwards you were placed in stasis. You are now in a United Federation of Planets Starfleet Medical Hospital.” The woman from the clearing stands to Peter’s left, leaning over him slightly so he doesn’t have to move to see her face.

He can see she’s wearing the same black and blue uniform as before, this time it’s partly covered by a light blue lab coat.

Peter wonders if she left the door visible on purpose.

He studied her closely as she spoke. Everything about T’lin tells Peter she isn’t human. The doctor’s scent is odd; being more metallic than any living being he’s ever encountered. Her facial structure reminds him of fairytale elves with her expression and tone being naturally placid.

Peter frowns when he realizes that the constant thrumming in his ears is her heartbeat and it’s coming from the wrong location. It’s lower down, were the liver should be and it’s right next to his ear. The doctor’s heart rate -which he could only guess to be several hundred bpm’s- and breathing didn’t seem to vary one way or the other. Which will likely make very difficult for the alpha to get an accurate read on this apparent doctor.

Peter’s breath stutters.  _ United Federation of Planets!  _ Like the last piece of the puzzle, he comes to an incredible conclusion. The creatures in the clearing, this doctor, the presence of technology perhaps decades ahead of what he knew.

It’s the only thing that makes sense to him, despite how much he wishes otherwise. They must have somehow traveled into the future. This doctor probably isn’t even supernatural but an actual alien. Stiles is going to freak out.

_ Stiles! _ Peter tries to jolt upwards, eyes burning red. He sees his Beta in his mind, in pain and helpless. The doctor places a gentle hand on his burned chest. He groans in pain and frustration while lowering himself back down.  

Peter feels the light brush of her mind again, though that’s all it is so he let’s the matter be for now. He looks to T’lin, who removes her hand after a moment.

“As I said, your injuries are severe. You should refrain from unnecessary movements.” T’lin reaches into her coat to pull out what Peter thinks can be a scanning device.

“The other who crossed the anomaly with you was put in stasis as well. It is standard medical procedure to place patients who are in critical condition in stasis until the best treatment is ready. As we are not familiar with your species it was also necessary to administer a full biological scan. ” T’lin pauses for a moment to study the scanner.

Peter is mesmerized by her near perfect neutrality. Her tone, her expression; it is all precise and detached. Peter finds that it makes it easier for him to follow what the doctor is explaining despite his raw nerve endings .

“When results showed that any attempts to administer pain relief would be futile and that your cells regenerate at an accelerated pace, it was decided to pull one of you out of stasis. Though we cannot offer you pain relief, we can heal all of the damage to your dermis faster than the estimated projection for your natural cellular regeneration.” The doctor puts the scanner back in her pocket without ever looking away from Peter.

It takes a moment for Peter to truly understand what he’s being offered. He doesn’t have to think about it, healing faster means he won’t have to feel like this for as long as he would have unaided. It means Stiles won’t have to suffer as long either. For now, he needs to deal with one problem a time.

Peter struggles to make his vocal cords work. His throat is dry and cracked. All the howling and growling he’s done hasn’t helped.

T’lin tilts her head, it’s the most expressive she’s been since Peter woke up. “Vulcans can be telepathic, I can understand some of your projected thoughts but clearer verbal communication would be preferable. Does your species rely solely on telepathy?”

Peter tries not to be too weirded out by the fact that T’lin keeps asking about his species. It gives him a nasty feeling that this Federation is under the impression that he and Stiles are the aliens. A tremor of pain rattles through Peter when he tenses unintentionally.

Likely sensing his distress the doctor presses her hand back on his chest. “You are in no danger here. The Federation values sentient life wherever they encounter it. They wish to discover, learn from and co-operate with other species.”  T’lin tilts her head again when Peter thinks very loudly that it sounds like she’s touting the company line.

“Vulcans do not lie, there is no logic in deceiving you. It is my duty as your doctor to prioritise your well-being. Do you wish to have my assistance?” T’lin stands at Peter’s bedside, veneer seemingly uncracked. But Peter gets the distinct impression he’s insulted her somehow. He likes her already.

Peter nods his head as a hoarse  _ yes _ is pushed out of his throat.

“This room has all that is necessary to begin your first set of dermal regenerations. It may take several treatments over the next few days to regenerate all of your dermis. I cannot give you an accurate estimate at this time as we do not yet know how your cell regeneration will interact with the procedure.” She pauses to tap a small brooch on her chest. “Lieutenant Crusher, report to Medical Stasis Lab Four.”

“Yes, Commander. On my way.” A female disembodied voice answers.  

“It will be impossible to keep you safely sedated given your biology. I recommend you be kept out of stasis and allow your own regeneration to continue between treatments. Is this acceptable?” As T’lin finishes her question Peter hears the doors slide open.

He answers the Vulcan with another hoarse, “Yes.”

A young redheaded woman comes into Peter view. Her uniform is the same colour scheme as the doctor, the difference being in the cut and rank insignias. She looks and smells human to the Alpha.

“This is Lieutenant Crusher, she is a doctor and Starfleet officer. She will be observing your procedure, if you have no objection?” He nods another ascent to T’lin because humans are something Peter knows how to deal with.

He looks to the Lieutenant and she smiles in an awkwardly reassuring way. He catches her surreptitiously studying his burns; she looks surprised that he's conscious. Peter can't help but feel a little bit smug. Though he's not fond of the fact that he's become so accustomed to this sort of pain.

T’lin cuts any further study off, “Once we have finished your first treatment, I will wish to conduct new scans, if you agree? The resulting data will enable more accurate predictions for your recovery. We will then remove the other being from stasis. They will be treated as well, should they wish to be.”

Lieutenant Crusher clears her throat while giving T’lin a pointed look. The Vulcan doctor takes a moment to look at Crusher with a simple, unaffected blink of her eyes then she turns back to Peter. “Does your species have prefered modes of address? Someway to differentiate yourself from one another?”

Peter frowns because that was the most patronizing, round about way anyone has ever asked for his name. Lieutenant Crusher seems to believe so as well because Peter sees her trying to hide an eye roll.

He clears his throat as best he can, “Alpha Hale.” Peter’s eyes flash red for a second, he feels a rush of pride as he speaks those words. He hears a sharp intake of breath from Crusher, though he doesn’t smell fear from her. More like curiosity.

T’lin inclines her head in a greeting fashion. “Alpha Hale. And the one who arrived with you?” The doctor pulls a small tablet from another pocket, her long fingers tapping on the screen quickly.

“His name is Stiles.” Peter rasps and coughs. “My Beta.” He’s fairly certain that said Beta isn’t going to be pleased with Peter’s not so subtle  _ claim _ to Stiles. But regardless, Peter wants to make it clear that he and Stiles are a package deal.

There’s something about this place that gives Peter the feeling that his initial time travel theory may be off. Of course his unease could just be from the fact that he’s been turned into a werewolf torch for the third time.

T’lin finishes her entry and puts the device away. “We will begin.”

 

* * *

Peter is propped up at a one hundred and thirty degree angle, the shinny blanket pooling on his lap. T’lin is using what she had called a dermal regenerator to mend the skin on his right hand. Slowly working her way up his arm.

He has much broader view of the room now as well which helps him relax slightly.

The doctor asks him questions as she works and the lieutenant makes entries into a tablet when directed to do so. At first she asks about his pain, is it increasing or decreasing? The sort of questions he expects from a doctor to a patient.

As time ticks by, the subject changes to what the norm is in terms of vitals for Peter’s species. T’lin has explained, unprompted, that it is to establish a more efficient baseline for his and Stiles’ recovery.

When Peter remarks that it’s logical, he’s pretty sure the lieutenant choked a little. The Vulcan on the other hand takes a moment to look at him and Peter feels like he's being appraised. “Indeed, Alpha Hale.”

To Peter’s great annoyance T’lin goes back to the previous topic, all without pausing from steadily healing Peter’s upper body.

He answers the questions with as much truth as he feels is necessary. Things like average body temperature, heart rate and blood pressure are easy enough but he becomes a bit lost for words when she asks about his cellular metamorphosis.

Seeing Peter's hesitation, Crusher interjects. “Starfleet has encountered life forms with the ability to change their physical appearance before.” She gives Peter a tight smile. “Doctor-patient-confidentiality ensures your privacy as well.” When the Vulcan doctor continues to regenerate the skin on Peter’s left arm and says nothing, the lieutenant continues. “Starfleet won't make you say or do anything you don't wish.”

There’s no signs that she’s lying. At the very least it’s obvious to Peter that she believes what she’s told him.

Peter’s mouth quirks a little to one side. Lieutenant Crusher is clever too. She's likely assumed he didn't understand T’lin’s medical jargon and has given him an explanation disguised as reassurance.

True, he's had a very small sampling of this Federation of Planets but Peter is beginning to believe that there’s very little deception here. It actually makes Peter uncomfortable now that he’s focused on the matter.

Peter's first instinct of course, is to either say nothing or lie. He doesn’t know enough about who he’s dealing with. There also is the complicated matter of just where or when he and Stiles are. 

Another problem however is that he’s already revealed most of his cards. By making no to effort to hide what they are back in that clearing, these people know Peter and Stiles aren’t human. Not to mention all the medical scans he’s already undergone. Trying to lie now could jeopardize the chances of them getting proper treatment. Peter is at a loss of how to get the upper hand.

For now he remains quiet and to his surprise neither of the doctors press him for an answer.

He glances down at his body when T’lin pauses from her so far steady uninterrupted rhythm. “Alpha Hale, I will begin treating your head and face. Your eyelids and mouth must remain closed until I inform you that it is safe to open them again.”

Peter nods before closing his eyes. The tingling, something akin to pins and needles, is stronger on his face. It also makes his nose itch.

“The itching sensation is expected, it may last until your dermis has completely healed.” Soon after she says that, the soft hum from T’lin’s dermal regenerator stops. When the doctor tells him it’s safe to open his eyes again, he does so with palpable relief. Peter’s entire upper body is at a stage that would have taken him nearly a week or more on his own.

This is the only reason Peter has been so amiable this far.

“How many planets are there in the Federation?” He asks without seeming to mean to.

“There are currently one hundred and thirty-five member-planets and six thousand nine hundred and eighty-four affiliates in the United Federation of planets.” T’lin tells Peter as if the answer is written right in front of her.

“New planets petition for membership every year.” Crusher adds with a fair amount of pride and excitement.

“Lieutenant Crusher can show you how to access a computer terminal after this treatment is completed if you wish to learn more about the Federation.” T’lin scans Peter with the same device she used when he’d woken up. “The new data predicts that one more session will be sufficient to heal all of your injuries. If you wish we may complete this session after regenerating the lower half of your body. If you need rest, now is an acceptable time as well.”

Peter points to the dermal regenerator. “Let’s finish this, shall we.” There’s no way he’s delaying these treatments. “How long until the next treatment?” His voice isn’t raspy anymore and he almost smiles in relief. He’s anxious to get back to his normal self and there’s also the matter of seeing to Stiles.

“Protocol dictates a twelve hour rest and observation period between dermal regeneration treatments when more than forty percent of the body is affected.” T’lin reaches for the blanket and pauses. “It will be necessary to remove the sheet covering you.” She waits calmly for Peter’s response and to Peter’s surprise Crusher goes subtly pink.

Peter can’t help a small chuckle and smirks towards the human. They’ve scanned him down to his DNA, there’s very little he could be hiding about his body at this point. Besides werewolves in general pay no mind to nudity and Peter is many things but shy isn’t one of them.

“That’s fine.” He says with perfect professionalism. T’lin removes the sheet gently at his say so then hands it to Crusher.

The cadet takes the shimmering sheet and folds it over an arm. She’s also subtly scowling at Peter. It only turns his smirk from teasing to smug.

For the life of him, Peter will never admit it but he startles slightly when T’lin begins regenerating the skin around his toes. It tickles. “You said you would take my Beta out of stasis once this was finished.” Peter keeps his tone even but it’s obvious he’s getting impatient.

“That is correct. Once I have finished your treatment you will be given appropriate garments. I will then proceed to remove Beta Stiles from stasis. Do you wish to be present?” Just as before, T’lin speaks as she works seamlessly.

“I have to be there.” Peter puts as much authority behind that statement as he can without making his eyes burn red. It’s been itching under his skin since he’s been awake, the new, barely there pack-bond between Stiles and Peter. It’s not something Peter thought he would ever get to feel again. He’s not keen on losing it either.

“Because you are his Alpha?” T’lin’s question surprises Peter. He’s not used to being around perceptive people.

“Yes.” Peter considers elaborating. He can see Crusher is bursting to ask what that means. The Vulcan of course, gives little sign that she’s interested but Peter has already figured out that T’lin only has one setting, as Stiles would no doubt phrase it.

“We’re a pack, he is my responsibility. My presence will also improve his healing.” Peter doesn’t say he can take most of Stiles pain away as well, because he thinks it’ll make a nice surprise. There’s another reason though, one that’s almost as important as the first. “It’s for your safety as well.”

In normal circumstances, Peter would never doubt Stiles’ control. These aren’t normal circumstances though and Stiles is more than likely to panic. The last thing anyone needs right now is a young injured werewolf tearing the place apart.

The doctor looks up to Peter, the regenerator stops. “You believe Beta Stiles will react in an aggressive manner if you are not present?”

“Stiles.” Peter pauses, trying to think of a non-supernatural explanation. “The cellular metamorphosis emerges at different times depending on the individual.” Peter explains smoothly. “It’s like a secondary puberty. Stiles’ has only recently emerged and he’s not likely to have full of control over his emotions and instincts yet. Control takes time and hard work.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “The manner of our arrival will have exacerbated the chance of Stiles having a negative reaction to my absence.” Okay, that last part is stretching it a bit but Peter says it meaningfully anyway.

T’lin sits placidly by his leg, patiently waiting for him to continue speaking. It almost takes the fun out it.

“We were being held prisoner.” Peter sees the face of a Ghost Rider in his mind, remembers how hollow he’d felt in that place. “We were trying to escape, to warn the others of what was coming.”

Lieutenant Crusher inches towards his bed. “Why?” She asks quietly, as if she is worried that if she speaks too loudly it might scare Peter. Unlikely as it is that she can actually scare him, he knows he’s let the memories come through a little bit too much. He doesn’t need her to say what she means by her question either.

Peter shrugs. “No one knows why. They come and take people until slowly entire towns are gone and forgotten. We saw a chance to escape and took it, we weren’t interested in finding out what they wanted to do with us.” He scowls, stomping on his anger.

“You did not create the spacial anomaly that brought you here?” T’lin asks. Peter hadn't expected that question from the Vulcan as so far she hadn't engaged in any talk the wasn't medically relevant. In fact, she had seemed to discourage it.

His curiosity peaked, the Alpha shakes his head. “No, the ones who took us use it to trap those they take.” He looks down to his pink raw flesh. “We knew it would hurt us.”

T’lin looks at Peter with a maybe frown. “How did you know and why did you go into the anomaly if you knew it would damage you?”

Peter knows he’s got the Vulcan’s full interest now. He leans back into his bed. This part should be delivered with a certain amount of delicacy. “A boy, from a different species, tried to escape first.” Peter makes a regretful expression. “He was incinerated the moment he made contact with the gate.”

“You knew your advanced cellular regeneration would keep you alive.” There’s a bit of doubt in T’lin’s tone.

“No, not for certain. We couldn’t remain there, though, our pack had to be warned.” Peter certainly doesn’t consider anyone in Beacon Hills pack, well perhaps Malia, but he doubts the feeling is mutual. Stiles however, does and the boy would do just about anything to save his father.

Peter looks up to the ceiling. He doesn’t want to think about this, he doesn’t want to know what Stiles will do when he finds out this is not Beacon Hills 2013.

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” T’lin looks back down and continues regenerating Peter’s lower half.

Peter almost snorts, almost. He doesn't really agree with that statement but he knows now is not the time to debate ideology.

They lapse into a strangely comfortable silence and Peter uses the time to think about the situation. When T’lin asks Peter to turn over so she can finish treating the rest of his body he does so without hesitation.  

When T’lin declares the job finished Peter sighs in relief. He doesn’t care that he’s itching all over because it’s undeniably better than what his skin had felt like before.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter inspects his reflection critically. The skin is still thin, raw and red. His body hair is absent, which is rather disconcerting to look at. Still, even if he wasn’t a werewolf, this Federation would have been able to heal him completely, either way.

The washroom lieutenant Crusher had shown him to is small and functional with nothing overtly futuristic. He’s surprised but none the less grateful that they let him out of their sight. He needs this moment of privacy.

Peter turns away from the mirror and takes the bodysuit he’s supposed to wear with considerable disdain.

He supposes it’s better than a hospital gown but it’s still hideous. The iridescent light grey fabric it’s made from makes Peter strongly consider claiming his species doesn’t wear clothes. It doesn’t matter how  _ breathable _ the fabric is.

Not wanting to waste more time on matters he can’t change yet Peter slips the garment on. He hates that it’s comfortable and fights the urge to check how ridiculous he looks.

The door slides open when he approaches it and Peter allows himself a moment to study the tech. He doesn’t see any sensors or cameras; he considers possible pressure detectors under the flooring.

“Alpha Hale.” T’lin greets him from the other side. Lieutenant Crusher is nowhere in sight. “Is the garment not to your liking?” She takes a step back to look at him blandly.

Peter looks down with a grimace. It is just as horrid as he feared. “I certainly wouldn’t have picked this out for myself.” His disdain is obvious.

“Protocol dictates this to be proper wear for patients with severe burns between dermal regeneration treatments.” T’lin pulls up her tablet to make an entry while she speaks. “After your final treatment you may choose garments from the available database. If you find no acceptable options you may enter parameters for garments of your choosing.”

With a sigh Peter nods his head. At least he only has one treatment left.

T’lin turns and leads him towards the exit. “Beta Stiles was placed in Medical Stasis Lab Five, lieutenant Crusher has gone ahead to prepare the necessary equipment.”

Peter smirks at the title the Vulcan has given Stiles. He hasn't corrected her either because he rather likes it. It’ll also annoy Stiles to no end.

The doors open when T’lin is roughly two steps from the doorway causing a plethora of new smells to assault Peter’s nose. He can see people walking freely in the hallway, but no one pays any mind to the Vulcan woman who waits patiently just outside the door for him.

She tilts her head, studying Peters obvious discomfort and pulls out her tablet once more. He hasn’t realised how well the air in the lab is being filtered. It’s too much to process when Peter’s been muting his senses to block out the pain and now itching sensation out. So many smells he can’t put a label too, not to mention some rather potent body odors, cause him to suffer a moment of disorientation.

“Vulcan females possess heightened olfactory senses and some therefore choose to use a numbing nasal agent to prevent distractions. Do you believe you will require similar treatment?”

Peter focuses on the Vulcan’s metallic scent, using it to wash out everything else. He shakes his head. “No thank you, that won’t be necessary.” His smile is a little forced as he takes an exaggerated breath.

“Very well, this way.” T’lin gestures for them to go left as Peter joins her in the hallway.

He follows her sedate pace, keeping the Vulcan in his peripheral while he studies the area. There are large hatch-like doors one hundred feet to the right, despite having large windows all Peter can see is another hallway and a few uniformed passersby.

To the left the hallway continues for roughly two hundred feet before it turns to the right. Several doors are evenly spaced out and numbered along both sides.

A small group humans, Vulcans, and other aliens Peter doesn’t have names for yet are gathered by a door halfway down the hall. Like T’lin, most of them are dressed in black and blue uniforms while two of the humans have golden uniforms.

Peter mentally files the information for later use, for when he’s able to have a look at that database T’lin keeps referring to.

The walls and floors are a predictable hospital white with the occasional splash of dove grey from the doors. The lighting is soft yet bright, one of the few things Peter finds pleasant in this place so far.

Peter is tempted to let his nose roam when they pass by a tall, bald, and blue skinned being with a split ridge running vertically down the centre of their face.

The blue alien gives the Vulcan doctor an acknowledging nod -the kind you give a colleague, not a friend- and a cheerful yet curious smile to Peter. T’lin returns the gesture but doesn’t stop to chat, which Peter’s grateful for. He inclines his head in the same fashion as his doctor and passes by without a word.

“Doctor Qol is Bolian. His home planet is Bolarus IX which is located in the Bolian sector of the Alpha Quadrant.” T’lin supplies once the Bolian passes them.

Peter takes the opening he’s been waiting for. “What planet are we on?”

“This planet is known as Earth, located in the Sol system of the Alpha quadrant. It’s native species are known as Terrans though they prefer to refer to themselves as human. Lieutenant Crusher is human.” T’lin answers him with all the passion of a textbook.  

Peter’s heart begins hammering harshly in his chest because this confirms his theory. They are in the future.

A future where werewolves have more than likely been wiped out. He knows he’s being cynical but what other explanation could there be. According to his alien doctor there are no records of beings exactly like Stiles and himself. It’s highly unlikely that werewolves would have been able to hide all this time. Peter can only conclude that means there aren’t any left. Not for a long time.

He fights the urge to ask more questions, like what year it is because right now it wont change a damn thing. Who knows, maybe they can get back and prevent that from happening. There’s a hiccup in Peter’s brain and he groans internally. Stiles has somehow infected him with his optimism.

They’ve walked roughly thirty feet when they come to the next set of doors, a large five printed to the left. The doors open smoothly and Peter’s ears focus on the light whir of machinery moving. 

This room is exactly the same as the one Peter had been awoken in. The moment they step through, the door shuts behind them and the smells from the hallway dissipate quickly.

Immediately Peter finds Stiles, but it’s only by sight. He can’t hear a heartbeat or any other signs of life and it sends the alpha in a near panic. He marches ahead of T’lin and goes directly to the bed without acknowledging Crusher who’s standing opposite from him.

Peter doesn’t consciously think about reaching for his beta but his hand his stopped either way by some sort of energy field. It doesn’t hurt him but he’s quick to anger when being kept away.

He shifts, the beta transformation coming much more fluidly with deep growl rumbling in his chest.

“Alpha Hale, the stasis field hasn’t been taken down yet. I promise he is alive and isn’t in any pain. It’ll only take a few moments for Doctor T’lin to remove the field and Beta Stiles’ bodily functions will resume as normal.” Lieutenant Crusher speaks to Peter calmly despite the fear he can smell from her. There’s a fire in her eyes that Peter respects.

T’lin comes to stand to Crusher’s right as she studies Peter’s shifted face closely. She makes no show of being scared or remotely intimidated. “It will take ten point four seconds to disengage the stasis field. Starfleet regulations require that I remain present until I declare Beta Stiles’ condition to be stable. Lieutenant Crusher will wait outside until he has given his consent to her presence. I will also inform him that he has the right to request your removal.”

Peter reverts his shift. He let himself get caught up in his Alpha instincts and he’s fairly sure T’lin’s last remark was a reprimand aimed at his loss of control.

He opts to pretend like nothing out of the ordinary just happened. “I understand.” He gives Crusher a half smile; he isn’t going to apologise but she’s been useful so far.

She gives him a begrudging smile and nod on her way out.

After the door swishes shut Peter puts his attention back on Stiles. He tries to reach the young werewolf telepathically and only gets a muted sense that Stiles is still there.

“I’ll have to make physical contact with Stiles the moment this field is down. I highly recommend you keep your distance until I say otherwise.” Peter tells T’lin with red eyes then looks down to study Stiles’ burned face. He’s glad that the boy won’t have to suffer a fraction of the time Peter did.

“I must ask what it is you intend to do?” The Vulcan asks with her hand proned over the bed’s control panel.

“I can take his pain, it should help him think more clearly.” Peter states as he looks back to the doctor, his expression entirely serious. “I can also restrain him if he loses control.”

T’lin raises a single dark eyebrow. “May I scan you while you attempt this?”

Peter hesitates. “As long as we get to see these scans as well. Yes.” It’s his curiosity that wins. He’d wondered when he’d been younger, if there’s a scientific explanation for that particular talent but he hadn’t had access to the right equipment. He also hadn’t cared about things like that since before the fire. The first one.

“Of course, all data taken is available to you when you wish to see it.” T’lin’s fingers begin inputting commands in the control panel.

The stasis field shimmers for an instant with a short static snap. Stiles body stutters with his first breath much the same way Peter’s had.

The Alpha places his hand on the beta’s chest. Peter’s jaw tightens as black tendrils begin to appear from the point of contact at his fingertips. The thin black lines slowly crawl up the length of his forearm and the discomfort is such that he has to regulate his breathing.

Stiles breathing steadies though it's still too quick and raspy, his eyes snap open. He tries to flail but his limbs won’t let him. Peter puts a small amount of pressure on Stiles’ chest, speaking as an Alpha to his Beta. “Stiles, you have to concentrate on something else. Pick anything, a sound, a smell but you can’t allow yourself to focus on the pain.”

The teen stops struggling after a few moments of hesitation, brown eyes flickering blue. The young werewolf’s eyes then begin to roam the room, briefly settling on T’lin. He whispers with a pained hoarse voice. “Peter?”

Peter senses Stiles’ mind reaching for his own. He supposes it’s instinctual but it’s definitely not the norm for telepathy to come so easily. Especially when the Alpha/Beta bond is so new. Whatever the reason Peter’s glad for it since he needs to explain what’s happened to Stiles.

He can spin words better than most and he can easily fake caring but Stiles knows him better than that. And honestly it’s almost impossible to lie while sharing this sort of link. Keeping this from or lying to his beta won’t help either of them.

Showing Stiles what’s happened will save Peter a fair amount of time as well. The privacy it allows is also a bonus. As long as he’s mindful of keeping their thoughts between each other, he doubts T’lin will pick up on their conversation.  

Peter makes sure that Stiles understands this before he begins. It’s a strange feeling, exchanging thoughts this way. It’s not like he remembers it when it had been with Scott, of course the circumstances had been very different back then.

There’s the expected panic when Peter reveals that their escape was only partially successful. He doesn’t have to tell Stiles that his father and friends are likely long dead, the boy is clever enough to come to that conclusion very quickly.

It takes a bit of Alpha power to calm the younger werewolf and Peter floods Stiles mind with the fact they can be healed from their injuries at a fraction of the time. Peter makes it clear that the only way they can figure this out is if Stiles remains in control and doesn’t fuck things up by mauling the good doctor. Who is a genuine alien.

Peter’s play is successful. Stiles stops struggling and lets him continue.

Stiles takes the information greedily, pushing for more details but there's only so much information Peter's been able to gather since being taken out of stasis.

Much like the revelation that supernatural creatures exist, Stiles accepts the idea of time travel with ease. The proof is in everything Peter has shown him and what he sees with his own eyes.

Stiles struggles with his emotions intermittently, ambivalence tugging at him and scattering his focus. Peter reminds his beta to focus on simple things, to heal first, plot later.

Peter pulls his hand from Stiles, he has to brace himself against the bed. Taking another’s pain to this extent is risky business. Peter isn’t about to jeopardize his Alpha power when he knows the boy will be healed soon.

“I believe it would be prudent if you sat down Alpha Hale.” T’lin makes her observation standing a short distance away.

A pained wheezing noise crackles out of Stiles. Peter reflexively goes to put his hand back on the beta’s chest but stops when he realizes that Stiles is laughing.

It’s certainly a better reaction than Peter had expected.

“If you’re quite finished, I’ll introduce you to your doctor. The sooner we’re completely healed, the sooner we can deal with our other problems.” Peter glares at the boy but there’s a smirk pulling at his lip.

Stiles’ wheezing stops, his breathing is more laboured now that Peter isn’t actively taking his pain away. The teen turns his head around, following the noise T’lin’s footsteps are making as she walks towards a computer terminal.

Peter looks up then rolls his eyes, she picks up a stool and walks back towards them. Though she does take the long way around, keeping Peter’s early warnings in mind no doubt.

She places the seat right behind Peter, giving him a raised eyebrow when he doesn’t take it right away. He caves after a few strained seconds, only because he really is feeling tired now. “He’s not going to be problem. I was able to explain what’s happened to us and what you can do to heal him.” Peter motions for T’lin to come closer.

Stiles snorts a little and coughs trying to clear his throat. “What’s up doc?”

To Peter’s unbelieving eyes T’lin glances upwards and she might have frowned for barely a second.

The Vulcan woman walks back to her prior position by the bed’s control panel. She doesn’t lean over like she had for Peter but she does keep eye contact with the young werewolf. “Beta Stiles, my name is T’lin, I’m a doctor. On stardate 29068.31, you were found after local sensors detected a spacial anomaly. Your injuries were severe, it was necessary to sedate you for transportation. Afterwards you were placed in stasis. You are now in a United Federation of Planets Starfleet Medical Hospital.”

Peter watches Stiles carefully. He can tell that his beta is studying the Vulcan as best he can while absorbing her words. She talks Stiles through the same speech she gave Peter. It’s practically verbatim.

The alpha isn’t surprised by Stiles’ hurried agreement to receiving treatment for his burns. Admittedly, the beta is handling the pain surprisingly well but you’d have to be crazy to want to remain in this state for longer than necessary.

Peter can feel Stiles’ mind already working the pieces together, planning ahead. He holds in a relieved sigh. They will be alright, somehow, Peter will make sure they survive. Though he doubts the same could be said about anyone who stood in his and his beta’s way.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all,   
> a few notes to wrap things up. First off, this was written before the season 6b premiere, I'd also avoided all previews. The whole no werewolves thing has nothing to do with season 6b and its just a coincidence that I put those thoughts in Peter's head. I just wanted to reassure everyone. This is a story about going to different universes, a surprisingly common occurrence in Star Trek.  
> Second, wow. I was blown away by all the love this got. Thank you all so much, this is a project I've wanted to do for a while, I'm glad it was so well received.   
> Some Star Trek facts are made up but most of it is canon, for now ;) The Stardates are accurate, I used a Star Trek calculator. I will be keeping track of time and there will be time skips. I've made some mods to the werewolves, mostly because of inconsistencies in TW lore.  
> Also this chapter hasn't had it's final edit from my beta, I got anxious to share. So if there are mistakes, apologies, they'll be remedied soon.   
> Hope ya'll enjoyed,   
> ~until next time.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it folks, Werewolves in Star Trek.  
> I've been working on this baby for a while and I hope y'all like it.  
> Keep in mind the Steter doesn't happen right away, it'll take time but I'll do my best not to drag it out. I'm anxious to get to that part too you know.  
> I'm not 100% happy with the summary as it stands, so it will likely change later on. 
> 
> A big thank you to my awesome beta, Misuki23, :)


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